Intentions
by Today.Is.Life
Summary: ONESHOT. He hadn't intentionally set out tonight to find her drunk at a club dancing with a couple of strangers that were far too touchy-feely with her for his liking, but to say that the possibility hadn't crossed his mind would have been a lie. Dawsey!


**Hey guys! This is just a oneshot that I wrote up as a spur of the moment kinda thing after finding out that in tonight's episode, Dawson goes out to a club!**

**I hope you enjoy this oneshot! And for those of you reading my other stories, I promise that I'll be updating as soon as I can. I've been busy with work and school, and on the weekend I sprained my ankle so I've been dealing with that too :( I'm sorry for the delay guys!**

**Love Hannah**

**oxoxox**

* * *

He hadn't intentionally set out tonight to find her drunk at a club dancing with a couple of strangers that were far too touchy -feely with her for his liking, but to say that the possibility hadn't crossed his mind would have been a lie.

He'd heard from Herrmann at Molly's a couple of hours ago how Brett and Dawson were meant to go out on this mad girls night to some club, but their plans had been left in ruins when Cruz fell sick and Brett wanted to stay in to look after him. Herrmann had then expected Dawson to turn up at Molly's, but when he'd called her she had said that she was still going to go out. Casey wasn't really supposed to hear that part of the conversation, but he couldn't help listening to Otis and Herrmann talk, especially since it was about Dawson.

Casey waited for a long hour before he left Molly's. He told Severide that he was going home, that he was tired and Severide said that he probably wasn't going to be home tonight anyway, since he had some blonde on his arm. So after waving goodbye to the others, Casey set out into the bitter Chicago night, and found himself being drawn to the first club he could think of.

Three clubs later Casey hadn't found a trace of Dawson, let alone her. He was beginning to feel like a puppy chasing his own tail, but a nagging part of him couldn't stop the need to see her tonight. The need to be close to her.

When he sets down at the bar of the next club he'd found, the music blaring in his ears, he wasn't paying much attention at all to his surroundings. All he wanted was another beer.

The cool liquid made its way down his throat and in the pounding music of the club, thought about what the hell he was doing. Did he really expect to find Dawson out tonight? What the hell would he even do if he did, by some miracle, stumble upon her? He knew she wouldn't believe that he'd come across her by accident. Clubs weren't really Matthew Casey's scene, especially alone, and Dawson knew that.

She knew everything about him.

He'd always loved how she could read him so well and whilst it was frustrating at times, when she knew what he was thinking before he knew it himself, Casey always found it comforting that someone could understand him, that someone was there for him.

He never felt alone with her, he loved how she could make him feel whole just by snuggling into his arms. He loved how when she laughed, his entire being swelled with joy that the sound of her happiness and how it made him happy too. He loved how her eyes could tell him things her mouth never could and how her smile could make him tear up or want to ravish her right there. He loved how she wrapped herself in their bed sheets and pranced around their apartment, trying to make breakfast with one hand as the other held the sheets to her chest. He loved how he'd wake to the sound of her singing in the shower or how she'd wake him with soft kisses to his body, teasing him into consciousness. He loved so many things. So many things. So many things that they no longer did together, that he can no longer see. It's no longer their apartment and she no longer lives there.

Casey finds himself getting upset at these thoughts and he allows the beer to slip much more quickly down his throat now.

That's until he spots her on the dance floor. She's mesmerisingly beautiful, as always. His breath catches when he sees her. She's wearing that dress, that dress from that very first night. The night where everything became right, when everything fell into place, when _they_ finally began.

A heavy rock of jealously sits in his stomach when he sees her dancing with some guys. By the look in her eyes, she's way beyond the state of tipsy. She's blind drunk. And she's dancing with some guys that are clearly appreciating how stunning she is. But they won't appreciate her in the way she deserves, Casey thinks. He wants her.

And he can't stop his feet from moving across the floor towards her. She's his gravity, and he can't get enough of her. It's been far too long.

When he's within a few feet of her she turns, swaying her body in time with the beat of the music, her curly dark hair bouncing over her shoulder. Some guy has his hands on her hips...

Casey has to restrain himself, despite knowing he had no right to be here, to be interfering like this, but something in her eyes doesn't make him turn away. It solidifies his need to be there.

Her eyes have widened at the sight of him, Dawson had thought this is the last person she'd bump into tonight. Casey probably is the last person she'd want to bump into, considering the state she's in and the fact that he's the reason she's here, dancing and drunk out of her mind.

"Matt," he's shocked at the use of his first name, but he's missed his name on her lips. It makes him happy.

She stops dancing with this guy. He tries to argue, but when the guy sees the way that they look at each other, he turns into the crowd, and disappears.

Casey can't stop himself from smirking as the guys hands slip away from Dawson's waist, but the smile soon drops from his face when she asks defiantly, "What are you doing here Casey?"

_Ouch_, back to last names. Casey shrugs, "Just hanging around," he lies, but he knows that she sees straight through it.

Rolling her eyes Dawson moves towards the bar, Casey following and he watches her order a couple of shots. He can't stop gazing at her and he certainly can't stop his mind thinking all sorts of things with her in _that_ dress. Once the cash is in the bartenders hand, Dawson's knocks back the two shots quickly and stumbles backwards. Casey's hands darts forwards and keeps her steady.

His hands don't leave her skin and Dawson can't ignore the feeling in her stomach, or the burning of her skin from his touch, "How much have you drunk?" Casey asks, though he's already aware of the answer.

"A lot," Dawson answers stubbornly back, glaring up at him, "But I'm not looking for a babysitter so you can go home now Casey."

"I'm not your babysitter," Casey retorts, acutely aware of how she leans closer towards him, despite her hard tone.

Dawson can't stop staring at him, angrily, but yet with complete bewilderment. He was striking, and he drove her crazy.

She can't stand being so close to him, knowing that she can't have him, knowing that his hands on her arms is the closest that she'll ever get again to feeling him. So she shrugs him off and rushes past him, trying to make her way through the crowd.

She makes it outside, yet something told her that he was following her, and sure enough, when she was leaning against the wall trying to tug off her heels, he came to stand before her, his hands in his pockets.

"What?" Dawson mutters with frustration, embarrassment heating her cheeks because she's well aware of how drunk she is. Casey only raises an amused brow at her, and he kneels down and unclips the heels from her feet, the feel of his warm hands on her skin sending shivers throughout her body.

"Thank you," she whispers with sincerity, the act of kindness melting away her defiant act, finally letting the extent of her intoxication show.

"Do you want to get a cab?" Casey asks. He's concerned, it's deathly cold and Dawson's out here with no shoes, no jacket, and no clear way of getting home.

She shakes her head, "I don't want to go home."

Casey knows better than to argue with her, but it's cold and he can't leave her here. After shrugging off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders he says, "You can't stay here all night."

"What difference does it make to you?" Dawson questions with a sharpness to her voice, a challenging look in her eye.

Casey sighs, "No matter what has gone on between us Dawson I care about you, and leaving you out to freeze in the cold is not something I'm about to do."

Anger takes over, Casey can tell, because that look in her eye is one he knows too well - the Dawson temper. Scoffing Dawson pushes herself off the wall and starts to stumble off down the street, his jacket still cupped around her body.

Casey takes a few steps towards her before he speaks, "What? You think I don't care about you anymore?"

He watches as she stops abruptly, before quickly whipping around to face him, her forehead creased with anger, "I don't want you to care!"

"That's a lie!" Casey yells back at her, feeling as if this is what they need, or at the very least, what she needs.

Dawson is momentarily taken aback by his words, but she quickly composes herself to shout back, "Stop it! Just stop it Matt!"

"I can't just switch it off!"

"Try!" Dawson demands loudly, her eyes wild and wide and teary.

"You don't want me to do that Gabby, you know you don't," Casey says much more softly, his demeanour relaxing when he sees the tears slip from her eyes.

"No Matt no," Dawson argues weakly, wrapping her arms around herself as a way of supporting her body.

Casey holds his hand out to her and upon seeing her hesitation he murmurs, "It's okay Gabby."

She walks slowly and still barefoot towards him, slipping her hand into his and clutching onto it tightly. As Casey pulls her into his side to protect her from the cold, he hails down a cab with the hand that's still holding her heels.

He helps her stumbling body into the cab, giving the driver his address before pulling her into his side once more, his arm wrapped securely around her.

They're both silent for the entire ride until they pull up at Casey's apartment, where Dawson begins to protest, "Matt no-"

The look he gives her means he's taking no argument on this one, so Dawson doesn't push it. Once Casey pays the cabbie he helps her out of the car and walks her to his front door. _Their_ front door.

He gets her inside quickly for fear that she's been out in the cold for too long and the moment she's inside, she slips his jacket off her shoulders, revealing that mocha skin that drove him crazy.

"I'm sorry for yelling at you," Dawson says quietly, the slurring in her voice becoming ever more apparent.

"I didn't expect much less," Casey chuckles lightly to reassure her and it seems to work because he's sure he catches her smile.

"I just... I... It's easier if you don't care," Dawson says so quietly Casey had to strain to hear. It's the most honest she's been with him tonight, and it's the most honest she's been with herself in a long while.

Seeing the furniture they used to share makes her eyes tear and when she spots the place where her packed bags where all those weeks ago, her stomach sinks. How she wished she could take it all back.

"Yes, perhaps it would be, but I do care. I always will," Casey answers, watching her as she moves slowly through the living room, nervous to settle into the sofa but doing so when he motions for them both to sit.

"You should move on," Dawson murmurs vulnerably, her eyes unable to meet his, scared of his reaction.

"Is that what you were doing tonight?"

He watches as she scoffs, rolling her eyes as if his words were ludicrous, "I just wanted to get drunk. There's no moving on from you Matt."

She doesn't realise what she's said, what she's admitted, until she said it. Her breath catches and her eyes widen, and she looks like she wants to eat up those words and erase them from reality, from his memory. But she doesn't realise how happy her words make him feel, how they give him hope.

"I'm sorry for Beth," Casey blurts out without thinking, even though he's sober. Dawson immediately stiffens and avoids eye contact once more, "There's nothing to be sorry for. We're not together."

"Then I'm sorry for the way you found out."

"Matt," Dawson says sternly, "I don't really wanna talk about her."

But Casey continues because this feels like his only chance, and he'll do everything he can with this chance, "She wasn't you. I thought that if I tried... but no one is you. No one makes me feel like you do. She made me realise what I wanted, and it's you Gabby."

Long moments pass before Dawson even starts to think of an answer and a minute had passed by before she unfreezes herself to speak, "I walked out. I walked out and left and I gave up on us. How can you want that Matt?"

"You weren't the only one at fault," he points out and acknowledges, "A lot of what you said before you left was right on the money."

"That doesn't make leaving right," Dawson enforced sternly.

Casey nods, "It doesn't, but you were tired of what we'd become. I can understand that. We weren't happy."

"And a lot of that was down to my decisions. What _I_ had done."

"Gabby, we are both equally to blame."

Dawson has to wipe her eyes because their clouded with salty tears and once the blur has cleared, she looks at him, and her heart melts.

"It's always been you," she whispers, and the words are so dangerous and yet she feels relief but nervous and scared of his answer because this could be everything or nothing.

The way he looks at her tells her that this is everything.

Casey pulls her body to him, lifting her with his hands and crashing her into his chest. Her hands quickly find his neck and jaw, clutching tightly as his lips meet hers, solidifying what they'd both longed for for months.

The kiss is everything all at once. It is a hello, an apology, a contract that they'll never leave each other again. It's passionate and loving and crazy and wild and needy all at once, whilst being tender and sweet, ensuring that they both felt secure in this.

When their lips part, Dawson buries her face into his neck, breathing in his scent deeply, basking in the smell of him, realising just how much she'd missed it.

They don't say a word as they hold on to each other firmly, releasing that this was real. That they were finally in each other's arms again.

When Casey feels her body begin to relax with an alcohol induced sleep, he scoops her into his arms and carries her into his, _their_, bedroom. Setting her down on the rug that she'd spent two weeks choosing, he takes out a t- shirt from the drawer and smiles when his favourite part of her drunkenness kicks in. The babbling stage.

Looking into her eyes he seeks the permission to help her undress and when he sees her eyes soften and her lips smile, he helps slide the straps off her arms.

"I missed you so much Matt," she starts as he begins to help her out of the dress, "and I know it's my fault, and I'm sorry, I'm so sorry for everything. But I always loved you, I never stopped loving you, and being without you is the hardest thing I've ever had to do. And I know it must have been hard for you too, I know how bad you felt. I saw it in your eyes. I know I hurt you..."

"Hey," Casey soothes when he hears the upset in her voice, "none of that baby..." He murmurs before kissing her head and slipping the t-shirt onto her body.

"I just really love you, you know?" She says as he helps her into bed, "you're everything to me. And I was jealous and hurt when I heard about you and Beth, but I understood it, and that's what hurt the most. I wanted you to be happy, but I wanted to be the one to make you happy. But I'd ruined it. But I promise Matt, I'm never going to hurt you again. Never ever. I couldn't go through it again, and I couldn't put you through it again..."

By this time Casey has pulled off his shoes and his jeans and has climbed into bed beside her, tucking the covers around them both. They lay on their sides facing each other, Casey bringing his hand up to rest on her waist.

"I hope you know that I'm never letting you go again," Dawson says strongly, despite the tiredness seeping from her frame, her eyes blazing with her words.

"I don't want you to," Casey answers honestly, because with Dawson, everything is right.

"That's good then," Dawson mumbles drunkenly, her eyes slipping closed.

"I love you," Casey whispers as he pulls her into his body, where she belongs. With him. Together.

"I love you too," Dawson says as she clutched his shirt in her hand.

And as they both fell into the best sleep they'd had in months, Casey thought that whilst hadn't intended to find Dawson tonight at that club, he was glad that he did.


End file.
